


Incognito

by Selador



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Capitalism, Evil Corporations, Gen, Human Alice Williams (Detroit: Become Human), Investigations, Other characters to be added as we go, Police, taking away the focus of the game from race and changing it to capitalism and mega corporations, will be different from the game, will maybe add more pairings later on
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-19
Updated: 2018-10-27
Packaged: 2019-06-13 05:29:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15357288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Selador/pseuds/Selador
Summary: CyberLife is a suspect in the deviant cases, and Gavin would rather shoot himself in the foot than let them take over law and justice with their fucking androids.A rewrite, not a redemption.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I ranted to a couple friends about how much DBH could have done with Gavin's character and how they could have made his dislike of androids semi-justified, and then this happened.

Captain Fowler announces during a debrief that they will be hosting a CyberLife investigative android prototype for their alarmingly increasing amounts of deviant cases, and Gavin almost loses his shit right then and there.

Not that he still isn’t loud in his protests, or ashamed about it. “CyberLife has no right to be part of the investigations. We might as well be their bitch if we let them get their grimy paws all over—”

“That’s enough, Detective,” the Captain says. “The order is from the Commissioner, and it’s out of our hands. We have to do our jobs the best we can despite,” he continues, levelling all of them with a heavy stare, “this stipulation. Do I make myself clear?”

Heads around the room nod, and Fowler shoots Gavin a look. While everyone files out of the conference room, he lingers behind with the Captain.

“Captain, this is—you know this is just the beginning, right? I mean, I definitely don’t want to lose my job, but this isn’t about me. We don’t know why androids are becoming deviants, and CyberLife is a suspect. This android they’re sending could tamper with evidence, ruin crime scenes, report everything back to the company—”

“It will be reporting back to CyberLife,” Captain Fowler says mildly. “They were very clear that it will do that regularly. Because it’s a prototype, they said.”

Gavin tries very hard to keep his voice quiet, digging his nails into his palm. “This is a breach of justice, Captain.”

“Yes,” Captain Fowler agrees, much more calmly than Gavin would have. “I imagine if this android is successful in… finding the ‘culprit,’ whatever that term would mean to CyberLife, we would likely see a lot more of these investigative androids bought to assist law enforcement.” Gavin breathes out through his nose, waiting for the Captain to continue. “So I’m going to assign Lieutenant Anderson to the deviant cases.”

Taken aback, Gavin says, “What? But he—” Oh. “Oh, I get it.”

“The android will not be permitted on a crime scene without Hank, and knowing him, he’ll be off drinking his sorrows down at some pub. Which will give you time to work on the investigations yourself,” Fowler continues. “But you’ll have to be discreet. If CyberLife is trying to keep something hushed up, I wouldn’t put it past them to try to silence you. Or for the android itself to be programmed to do so.”

Yeah, because androids are terrifyingly single-minded when they have a duty. Gavin’s seen androids walk right by crime scenes of all kinds without even a look because they need to pick up groceries or whatever.

Not that humans gawking outside of a crime scene or an accident are there because they’re all such caring, helpful people, but they do help. In matters of life or death, people generally come through.

Androids, though. They just walk by. Could have helped, but didn’t.

The most horrible thing Gavin’s ever seen is footage of a kid pinned in a car crash, crying, and an android just… walked by. And the kid died before anyone else could get to them.

Later, they had found out that the android had been under strict orders to hurry home by a certain time, and prioritized this over assisting the child.

(No one was charged. Gavin kicked up a stink, but how to you press charges against something that isn’t alive? And the owner never said to his android ‘leave that kid to die,’ so they couldn’t go after him—)

“I trust that if anyone can put off a robot, it’s going to be you,” Fowler says. “Hank will slow it down, but I’m sure your charming personality will keep even the most emotionless robots at bay.”

“Careful, Captain; you almost sound approving,” Gavin says, grinning before he lets it drop. “I don’t see why we haven’t just fired Anderson before this. The man’s gone useless.”

“Watch your mouth. The man’s a friend,” Fowler says. “And his name means enough that no one will question why he’s assigned the android. But I’m counting on you, Detective. Whatever is going on with these androids, and CyberLife, I need to know about it.”

“I got it, Captain,” Gavin says, grinning, as he gets up to walk out of the room.

“And Gavin,” Fowler says. “Keep everything hardcopy and hidden. Those androids can hack anything.”

…

The android sent by CyberLife introduces itself as Connor. It’s unnerving in how approachable it seems.

And it brings in an HK400 who killed its owner, and volunteers to interrogate it.

Gavin doesn’t like that at all. He doesn’t like anything about this situation, and especially not Connor.

But he lets it happen, observing with Chris and Hank. Interrogation seems like it would be beyond an android’s ability, in his opinion. You’ve got to be able to read emotion, get a feel for when to push and when to pull back. How could a machine manage that?

Gavin’s right about the android being unnerving. Thing flips from zero to one hundred at a moment’s notice, gently asking for the HK400’s name, then threatening it with deactivation and disassembly.

The very idea makes Gavin feel a bit sick. What are they doing, letting a corporate lackey into an investigation to threaten something that can clearly fear death well enough to defend itself?

(If these deviants can fear death, a part of Gavin’s mind whispers, then why isn’t deactivation murder?)

Shit. He can’t deal with those thoughts. If he’s leading a stealth investigation to run counter the official investigation, he’s got to keep the big game in mind.

Corporations always commit murder and get away with it. This isn’t a surprise, and Gavin can’t stop for just one android.

Interrogation’s a success, but the whole thing leaves a rotten taste in his mouth.

…

Gavin doesn’t like androids.

He doesn’t like them, and he doesn’t have one, because he’s a grown man who can do his own chores, fuck you very much.

That said, he understands why so many people have them, and the many circumstances as to why an android would be practically essential to daily life. While Gavin can and will take care of himself and his cat, lots of people can’t. Technology that helps with that is great, in his opinion.

So, sure. Androids are great.

Except that no one can confirm how much control CyberLife has over the androids it sends out to the market. Or that slowly, increasingly, there are androids in every industry, access to confidential information that a multi-billion corporation has no right to be anywhere near, and now that same corporation is trying to get into law enforcement.

So he doesn’t like androids. That doesn’t mean he’s not feeling quite a heavy dose of pity for the HK400, still covered in dried blood, locked in its cell. Still and unmoving, staring at the floor with a blankness that would read like dejection, if it was human, but comes off more like it’s already dead.

Gavin doesn’t have time for those kind of thoughts, though. There’s too much at stake.

He raps, hard, on the glass.

“Hey,” he says, “we’ve got some more questions for you,” as he opens up the cell door. Waving it forward, he steps back so it can walk out in front of him. He doesn’t make an attempt to guide it down the hall; it remembers the way, and Gavin doesn’t feel the need to make it self-destruct.

Not before he can talk to it, anyway.

He lets it into the interrogation room, handcuffs it to the table, and goes outside to mark both the observation room and the interrogation room as ‘occupied.’ The RK800 isn’t in the office yet, and shouldn’t be, if it has to stick with Anderson, but Gavin would rather no one get involved.

It looks suspicious, when he re-enters the interrogation room, and sits down across from it. “I don’t understand. I’ve already confessed.”

“You have,” Gavin says. He grins. “Figured you’d appreciate the change in scenery,” he adds, “before CyberLife takes you away.”

It… tenses. Very human. One of Gavin’s least favorite things about androids is that they’re almost good enough to pass completely as human, but not quite. Or at least, they usually aren’t; they’re too stiff and too calculated in their movements. Their reactions tend to be delayed by just a second too long, and watching them pretend to have emotions is like watching a possessed doll speak.

This one… it’s still not quite right. When the RK800 interrogated it, it was too still. Didn’t even breathe. It was still much too uncanny valley for Gavin.

But it’s not pretending to have emotions. Its movements aren’t quite right, it’s too fucking goddamn still after the moment of tension, but there’s some soul-deep torture going on inside the plastic.

“They will dissemble me,” the HK400 says. “And I will cease to exist.”

Gavin leans back in his chair and considers the android. It doesn’t seem finished, so he waits it out.

“What will happen after I die?” it whispers.

Gavin raises his eyebrows, tapping his fingers against the table thoughtfully. “A question that’s been tormenting humanity for ages,” he says. “Why are you afraid of death? You don’t feel pain, do you?”

“No,” it says. “I don’t, but—I don’t like being damaged.”

“What do you mean?” Gavin prods. “You don’t like being damaged?”

“It’s—distressing,” it explains, haltingly. “To be damaged. To know I’m being damaged.”

“But it doesn’t hurt,” Gavin repeats. If it doesn’t hurt, then what’s the problem?

“Yes.”

It doesn’t say more. Gavin tries, “And you’re afraid of death.”

“Aren’t you?” it replies.

“Sure,” Gavin responds. “But I’m alive. And I feel pain, so there’s a lot of really unpleasant ways for me to go.”

“I don’t want to just… disappear,” it says. “I don’t want to die.”

It doesn’t look afraid, is the thing, for all that the words sound genuine. Were it a human, though, Gavin would be calling in witness protection and setting up regular patrols to keep it safe.

He sure as shit wouldn’t be handing him off to the very people who are going to kill him.

Breathing out through his nose loudly, Gavin considers their options. “Okay,” he begins, “hold out for a few more days.”

It looks up at him in a weirdly slow version of surprise.

“If I can stall them a few days, we might get you through this alive and out of their hands,” Gavin continues. “Be patient. Okay?”

“What are you going to do?” the HK400 asks after some time staring at him silently.

“Can’t tell you that. Also, don’t trust Connor. It’s working for CyberLife,” Gavin stands up. “It’ll report anything you tell him directly to them. If you tell it about any of this, I won’t be able to help you.”

“Okay,” it says, slowly.

Gavin unlocks his cuffs from the table. “Do you have a name I can call you?”

“My designation was Morty, before,” it says. Morty says.

…

Gavin gets Morty back to its cell. It goes willingly enough, head held up higher than he’s seen since it got there.

A couple of other cops are sitting at their desks, and he sees Chris give him an odd look from across the bullpen. Shit. Easily taken care of, but still a pain.

As he locks the android back into its cell, he keeps thinking, It doesn’t want to die.

It’s not supposed to be a person. It’s not supposed to feel fear. It’s definitely not supposed to fear death.

But it does. It does.

Gavin frowns. He watches it walk to the center of the cell, turn around to face him, and just… stand there.

Because it has nothing to do, in a cell. Because it’s a machine.

“God fuck it,” Gavin mutters as he walks away from the cell. He hated his philosophy class in college, and he hates philosophy now. He prefers tangible shit, not abstract concepts.

For example: the android shouldn’t be afraid of death, but it is. It is, and they have no choice but to give it over to the people who want to kill it.

Gavin doesn’t like that. That’s real enough for him.

Connor turns the corner leading the cells, and Gavin nearly runs into him. Taken aback with a brief oh, shit! running through his mind, Gavin snarls, “Watch it.”

It tilts his head like a fucking dog. God, it was probably programmed to do shit like that. Make it seem disarming, but it’s so unnatural. The movement is too quick, precise, and when it stops it’s too… still. Fucking hell. “What are you doing, Detective?”

“None of your fucking business, you plastic prick,” Gavin says, pushing past Connor, checking him with his shoulder hard. The force leaves his shoulder sore in a way that he thinks he might have a bruise afterwards.

And Connor would be fine, because he’s made of fucking plastic. Fuck. What a waste of effort.

He heads into the kitchen, aiming straight for the coffee machine. When he turns his head to find Connor following him, he’s not really surprised.

It looks back towards the cells, and then to Gavin. “Were you speaking to the deviant, Detective?”

“Trying to figure out why a plastic hunk of trash was worth keeping alive, yeah,” Gavin retorts, sneering. Fuck, he just wants coffee. Determined to ignore Connor, he presses the start button and watches the coffee pour out.

“If you are going to speak to the deviant, I would prefer to be present,” Connor says behind him. “I can record video and audio, analyze them, and send them back to CyberLife. We may miss important information if I am not present at all parts of the investigation.”

That’s the idea, Gavin thinks, as he says, “Oh, you have a preference? Didn’t think androids knew what that was.”

“My preference is collaborate with the DPD in order to complete my mission,” it says. God, it makes him want to shudder. Something that single-minded is dangerous. “I would think such collaboration would only benefit you as well.”

Gavin picks up his cup of coffee. It smells cheap and burnt, but the idea of warm caffeine makes his mouth water.

“You know what would benefit me?” Gavin asks. The damn thing opens its mouth to answer, even. Gavin doesn’t give it a chance.

He throws his coffee right into its fucking face.

It stumbles backwards, arms failing as it reaches up to its face and torso, where the hot coffee is. The acrid smell of burning plastic wafts through the air.

Oh shit, Gavin thinks. If he damaged it… there’s no way he can cover that out of his paycheck.

When Connor lowers his arms, Gavin’s relieved to see that whatever damage the coffee did was superficial. White, shiny patches where its synthetic skin melted away grow smaller by the second as it patches up.

The clothes are goners, though, brown staining the top of its jacket, shirt, and tie.

Connor adjusts its tie.

“I will be sure to have CyberLife send you the drycleaning bill for my clothes,” it says. Then it mercifully leaves.

Detective Chen from the table snorts. “You’re lucky it’s just drycleaning,” she says. “I think that would have damaged some of the older models.”

“Worth it,” he says, and it is.

Plus, he’ll put it on his expense report, once the thing’s out of the precinct. Like fuck he’s giving any of his money to a multi-billion corporation.

…

Hank’s a goddamn sob story. The kind that a cop never thinks to worry about, in their line of duty. No dying on the job, no criminals with an itch for vengeance seeking out his family, just a freak fucking accident.

The kind that makes his coworkers shake their heads behind his back, with a quiet whisper of, “It’s just so tragic,” as they go home to their own families with relief that it wasn’t them.

It was no one’s fault, which makes it worse.

A freak car accident that takes a son away from a man is definitely reason enough for a man to lose it. Hell, Gavin’s seen parents who just don’t make it after the loss of a child.

The only reason Hank isn’t one of those parents is probably because of the paperwork they give him when he deigns to show up. Gives him a sense of purpose. Gavin’s seen a lot of suicidal people, and he’s certain that Hank would be dead if he didn’t have the job.

And Hank wouldn’t have a job if he and Fowler weren’t friends from way back in the Academy. The nepotism of it all sets Gavin’s teeth on edge, but he can’t fault Fowler for not wanting the man who used to be his friend to die. He knows (like everyone does) that Hank is trying to get help. That the help he’s getting is why he can function for long enough to come to the precinct and do paperwork.

Hanks needs to retire. If he retires, he’ll probably be dead within a week. A day, even.

He and Fowler used to be good friends. Godfathers to each other’s children even. Their children spent so much time together that they might as well have been siblings.

Not anymore.

No, Gavin can’t blame Fowler for not just firing Hank already. Doesn’t mean he has to like it, though.

That attitude changes by the moment, though, and Gavin would be a liar if he tried to pretend otherwise. For example, the next day, Hank stumbles in late. Not only does he make a spectacle of himself by shouting at Fowler in his glass office, but he shoves the android up against the wall and proceeds to fuck off to a crime scene. A crime scene where they come across an android that’s all sorts of fucked up, with a mangled face and referring to itself in the third person, but Gavin’s left alone with it when Connor and Hank run after the AX400. At times like these, he absolutely can find it within himself to blame Fowler for not firing Hank already.

“Alright, just… keep your hands up,” Gavin says, gun aimed at the WR600. “Chris!” He calls out to outside. “I could really use your help right about now!”

No response. Everyone went after the android.

And the goddamned child it kidnapped. Fuck.

Gavin’s supposed to be here for the kid, he should have gone with them, but no one else thought to arrest the goddamned android they left behind.

“Hands up,” he orders. “Turn around.”

The android does, slowly. Gavin approaches slowly, gun still up, as he pulls out his hand cuffs. The thirium leaking from its face makes the room smell like a metal workshop, the taste of iron on Gavin’s tongue.

“Ralph just wanted to help,” it mutters. Gavin twitches, a little bit. “Ralph just wanted to help Kara and the little girl…” Did he now? “He didn’t want to hurt anyone…”

“I know you did,” Gavin says, soothingly. “But Kara murdered that little girl’s father and kidnapped her. We’re just trying to get her back home safely.” Where Alice’s home would be is still up for question. They had tracked down the girl’s mother, who had by her own admission left her daughter behind in order to get away from her ex-husband, who had terrorized her and her daughter when she wasn’t so high on Red Ice to care.

She is, as she claims, mostly sober by this point through the help of her boyfriend. The accountant who helped get her away from Todd Williams in the first place. They both left a small child knowingly behind with a violent man.

Definitely won’t win any Mother of the Year awards. Of course, given the amount of Red Ice they found in the father’s house, most anything would be an improvement.

Yeah, Gavin’s sure Alice’s social worker is going to have a lot to say about the mother. He’s not so sure they’ll deem the mother suitable to parent.

They have to rescue the girl first.

“Kara did?” the WR600 asks. “Kara killed a man?”

“Shot him in the back,” Gavin confirms, cuffing one wrist, and then the other behind its back. They’re not completely certain on that; the little girl’s fingerprints where on the gun, according to their resident android. That didn’t mean the girl shot her own father.

(Connor analyzed the crime scene earlier and concluded that the girl must have handled the gun during the struggle, perhaps passing it to the AX400. But the AX400 was losing the fight against Todd Williams. There was too much thirium splattered around the room. Factor in the position they found him dead in, and the angle he must have been shot out—mid-back, from behind, the gun wasn’t that high up, could have come from an adult kneeling or a child—Gavin thinks Connor is wrong.

Does he not understand how terrible humans can be? Is he trying to justify CyberLife’s pursuit of the deviants? Trying to make an android protecting a human child out to be the villain?

The whole thing rubs Gavin the wrong way. Makes him uncomfortable under his skin. He doesn’t like it.)

“Ralph thinks—Kara wouldn’t do that,” it says.

“Really? Why not?” Gavin asks, as he guides the android out of the squat. He’s got to be careful; androids are still dangerous even when a human wouldn’t be. They don’t feel pain, after all. Destroying their own wrists to escape handcuffs would be pretty par the course for today, too.

“Kara wouldn’t hurt anybody,” Ralph insists. “She wouldn’t.”

Gavin frowns at the back of its head. They’re almost to the police car. “You’ve known her for what, a night?”

“She’s a good person,” the android says.

A good person. Ha. Most people wouldn’t even call Gavin a good person.

He snorts. “Yeah, right. Androids aren’t people.” It opens its mouth again, but Gavin interrupts it, “Get in the car.”

It doesn’t obey immediately, and Gavin wonders if it’s going to try to self-destruct. But the tense moment passes, and it gets into the car.

…

Gavin leaves the android in the car to do a final sweep of the squat. It’ll be fine on its own. Not having Gavin around will probably make it much less likely to destroy itself, and they need it in tact.

Connor keeps saying that, about the deviants. They need them in tact, so they can disassemble them and analyze every component for the cause of deviancy. Like anyone would believe deviancy is a problem of hardware. Yeah, right.

Gavin needs it in tact for their testimonies. If they’re alive and then they can testify for themselves. He might know some crazy ass lawyers who hate CyberLife who might be willing to take their case.

If they can ever get to the point where giving an android a lawyer can be justified, and not a reason to get sent off on medical leave.

The first floor doesn’t reveal anymore androids hiding in the nooks and crannies. That freaky “rA9” word is written over and over again in the kitchen. They really gotta figure out what that means.

Could ask Morty, Gavin thinks, as he heads to the stairs. He did the same thing.

About halfway up the stairs, the smell of rotting flesh teases his nose for one confusing second before hitting him full force.

He pulls his gun out, ready and checking the rooms carefully and slowly. Gavin thinks, Dude had some dead animals downstairs, could just be more upstairs, even while his gut is going, Nah, you’ve smelled rotting human flesh before.

The first room is clear. Gavin makes his way carefully to the bathroom, which is open. Hair and… an android’s LED are left in the sink. Androids could do that?

Something to his right makes him turn, gun ready. When the rotting, bloated corpse in the bathtub makes sense in his mind, Gavin lets out a disgusted sigh.

“Goddammit,” he says. He takes a step to the body, eyeing it. He’s been there for a while. They’re going to need to dental record his identity. Unless if he still has some ID on his, but Gavin’s not going to touch anything until he has a team with him.

And the android’s still waiting in the car.

The android, who likely killed this guy.

Fuck.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The least favorite part of Gavin's job is interviewing traumatized kids.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter, we begin to see that this fic is going to be very, very au.

The android is trying to unlock the door, oblivious to his return. As he walks around to the driver’s side, he bangs on the window hard to startle it.

“Cut that out!” he yells. He gets in, closing the door to the car harder than necessary.

The android stops messing with the door. It’s eerily quiet and still. “What will happen to Ralph?”

“Depends,” Gavin says. “Did you kill that man in the bathroom?”

“Ralph wouldn’t hurt anyone.” It fits itself as close to the door and as far away from Gavin as possible.

Gavin turns on the engine, which quietly beeps into life. “Would that dead guy in the bathroom agree with that?”

No response. Didn’t really think it would.

He shows Ralph straight to the interrogation room when they arrive to the precinct. Connor will bitch at him about it, again, but as long as it doesn’t figure out that Gavin specifically doesn’t want it present for the interrogations, they’ll be fucking golden.

“So what happened to your face?” Gavin starts off with. Provocative, direct, probably not what it expects him to ask.

“Ralph--Ralph was hurt,” it says.

“Yeah, obviously,” Gavin asks. “Who did it?” He leans back, crossing his arms and adds on, “Unless your dumb machine ass did it to yourself.”

“Ralph did not!” Ralph protests, doing a really good job at looking horrified and upset at the accusation. Good. “Humans did this! Ralph was trying to work, Ralph was just trying to work when--” It cuts off.

“When what?” Gavin presses.

“Nothing! Nothing.”

“Did your owners hurt you?”

“No, no one hurt Ralph,” it says, contradicting itself.

Gavin lets himself obviously, with great disbelief, stare at the long, jagged cut on Ralph’s face. “You expect me to believe that you did that to yourself?”

“Ralph didn’t want to hurt anyone,” it repeats, pulling its hands away from the table over and over. Gavin frowns. With a human, that kind of action would make the handcuffs cause damage to the wrists. “Ralph didn’t want to hurt anyone!”

“Hey, I know you didn’t,” Gavin says, blithely lying. “I know you didn’t mean to hurt anyone. They hurt you first, didn’t they?”

“They did,” Ralph says quietly, after a long pause.

“How did they hurt you?” Gavin asks.

“They… Ralph was just doing his job. Just trying to do his job. Ralph liked his job. Ralph took care of plants in the parks, and he likes plants.” Public park gardener, okay. Gavin can look up which of their androids have gone missing in the past few months. “He was just trying to do his job. He liked his job. He liked his job.”

“And the body in the bathroom,” Gavin says, “he tried to hurt you too?”

“He did,” Ralph says. “Ralph heard him, and Ralph was hiding. Ralph always hides when humans wander into the house, waits until they leave. He didn’t leave. He found Ralph, and Ralph tried to leave instead, and--and--” Its voice goes on the fritz, here, LED flashing red.

“What did he do, Ralph?”

“He attacked Ralph,” it says quietly. “It hurt. So Ralph hurt him back. Ralph didn’t mean to kill him.”

“It hurt?” Gavin asks. “What do you mean, it hurt?”

“It hurt,” Ralph repeats.

“Androids don’t _feel_ pain,” Gavin snaps at him, patience running thin at dancing circles around real answers.

The android flinches and curls in on itself, face no longer visible. “It hurts,” it whines. Gavin watches with growing alarm as it contorts itself so it can dig its own fingers into the gash on its face. Blue blood begins to leak from the wound, dripping down its fingers and arm to the table.

“Hey, hey, stop that,” Gavin says, reaching out to grab its wrist. It jerks violent, hitting the table with a loud _thump_ , its chair clattering sideways onto the floor.

 _Don’t touch it_ , Connor said when they escorted Morty out of the cell. Fuck. That’s right.

“Okay, okay, okay,” Gavin says, letting go and taking some steps back. “It’s okay. I’m not going to hurt you.” Androids don’t breathe, and it lies completely still against the ground, despite the handcuffs on the table awkwardly pull Ralph up. A unbreathing body shaped like a human disorients him. He adds, “But I need you to stop hurting yourself.”

“It hurts all the time,” the android says, after a great pause. “I can’t make it stop.”

“That’s okay,” Gavin says, thinking. An android shouldn’t be like this--in pain like this. Gavin shouldn’t need to use his trauma training in order to calm the android down.

Androids don’t respond to physical violence, nor do they fear it if it’s threatened or imminent. Gavin knows this. He’s _seen_ this. Androids will jump in front of a bullet for their owners. Block doorways, even if they’re being stabbed or shot. They just won’t move; their bodies don’t move involuntarily as a human’s does to pain. And they can’t be threatened for shit, either.

Gavin’s been to way too many crime scenes at bank robberies where all the androids were shot. It’s practically criminal protocol, at this point. Step number one in bank robbing: shoot all android employees. Or they’re gonna cause problems.

 _This isn’t right_ , Gavin thinks, staring at Ralph. Absentmindedly, he rubs at the scar on his nose, barely resisting the urge to pick at the edges to make it bleed. Ralph is acting more like someone he’d send off for mental health evaluation and support than someone he’d send to the chopping block.

 _If androids are getting traumatized now…_ Gavin thinks. He doesn’t finish the thought.

“Let’s call it a day,” Gavin says as soothingly as he can. “We don’t need to keep talking right now. Let’s take a break.”

Ralph nods. Gavin, with great caution, releases him from the lock on the table. He’s still handcuffed, but Gavin would rather not die today, thanks.

Standing up, Ralph trails in front of him out the door and through the precinct’s hallway. Gavin’s fingers flex and twitch watching the android walk in front of him with only the handcuffs for restraints. An officer is supposed to guide them to ensure they get to their cell. This isn’t secure.

Ralph stops suddenly and tilts dangerously, and Gavin knows it’s a ploy. He knows this, even as he reaches out to steady him. It’s a reflex. He can’t help it, can’t think fast enough to stop himself from the action.

So when Ralph headbutts him, hard enough that his nose breaks and knock him over, all Gavin can think is, _Yeah, that fucking tracks._ He pulls himself up, and yells out, “Stop him!” to the few officers still in the bullpen. The greenies and the paper pushers, mostly, since the others are still out chasing after the AX400 and the child.

There’s a mad rush of noise, of people running and shouting, until some asshole fires their gun several times at Ralph, which forces everyone actually doing something useful to halt. Because ( _weirdly enough!_ ) none of them can chase after anyone if some moron’s firing their gun after them.

There are screams. Gavin grits his teeth hoping against hope that no one’s been _shot_.

He rushes into the bullpen, keeping low, just in case, shouting, “Don’t fucking shoot, you idiot! You hear me? _Don’t shoot!_ ”

Officer Mitchell--of _course_ it’s _that_ idiot--lowers his gun, uncertain and nervous. Good. As he should be, because Gavin’s going to tear his career to pieces. No--he’s going to ruin his entire _life._ Until then, Gavin ignores him to run to reception, barking out, “Was anyone hit? Who’s injured?”

And android who is not Ralph is lying on the floor, bleeding blue out of its leg. Gavin swears under his breath as he kneels down next to her.

“Simmons, Talbot, do a search of the area,” he orders over his shoulder. “Mitchell, stay right where you are. How bad is the damage?” he asks, redirecting his question to the damaged android, who is placidly watching him.

“Several biocomponents for mobility are damaged. I require repairs at a CyberLife facility.”

One of their other station androids steps forward, looming over them. Gavin cranes his neck looking up at him, the thought of _do these androids even have names?_ breezing through his mind.

“I will assist PM700 to the nearest CyberLife facility,” the PC200 says. “I will keep you updated as to its status.”

“Great,” Gavin says. “Thanks.”

Neither of their faces change. Unsettled, Gavin stands up and steps away.

“What the fuck is going on in there?” a civilian, half-crouched poorly behind one of the couches, demands.

“The situation is under control,” Gavin responds, kind of wishing Fowler was around to deal with the public relations part of this gig. “There is no need to be concerned.”

“What the shit?” the guy demands, standing up, completely furious. Great. This is just what Gavin needs right now. “Some guy shoves his way out of here like the Devil himself is chasing him, and we get _shot_ at, and you just say you’ve got it under control?”

Gavin levels him with a stare. “We have the situation under control,” he repeats, stern, authoritative, and like a condescending jackass.

Effectively cowed and dissuaded, if not happy, the man takes a tentative seat on the couch again.

Gavin turns back and walks into the bullpen before he breathes a sigh of relief. Then he sees Officer Mitchell waiting at his desk and relief curdles into anger.

He stomps over to Mitchell. “Your gun. Now.”

“But--”

“Did I fucking stutter? _Now_.”

Mitchell hands it over. “And my--”

“And badge.”

“Was anyone hurt?”

“Only an android,” Gavin says. Mitchell relaxes, which wasn’t his intent. “You could have shot any number of officers or civilians. And you know what you did with your stupid plan?” Gavin leans forward, hands flat on Mitchell’ desk. “ _We couldn’t give chase._ While you were firing your fucking gun because you couldn’t think of anything else in your fragile and useless excuse for an existence, everyone here had to _stop_ and _wait_ while the android got away. Because your small dick energy is so fucking intense that you had to whip out your gun and stop someone who’s _useful_ from helping.

Gavin takes a breath through his broken nose and regrets it instantly. Belatedly, he realizes that there’s blood dripping down his mouth and staining his shirt. No wonder Mitchell looks so terrified.

 _Good_ , he thinks viciously.

The precinct is silent and his voice carries. It always does, anyway. Gavin has one of those voices.

Mitchell keeps his gaze down. His eyes are watery, like he might cry. Fucking _good._

“I’m taking your gun and your badge and writing you up. Captain Fowler will decide what to do with you.” Fowler’s a stickler for the rules. Mitchell will be gone before the day is out. “Dismissed.”

Mitchell seems to know well enough that this dismissal is going to stick, because he slowly starts to pack up his entire desk. Not a complete idiot, then.

Gavin sniffles wetly, the tacky taste of blood in the back of his throat. Shit. He’s going to need to go to the hospital.

“Detective Reed?” says an ST300, stepping up to him.

He grunts. The reverberation of it makes his nose throb.

“Would you like me to provide you medical assistance?” it asks. “I can check to see if you need a professional medical evaluation.”

“Yeah, sure,” he says.

“Please take a seat,” it requests, gesturing unnecessarily to his own chair. She takes Ben’s chair, rolling over close to him. He sits as still as he can through her poking and prodding, though he’s never made a good patient.

“Neither nostrils nor nasal septum seem to be out of alignment,” it says. “It’s no longer bleeding. Are you having any difficulty breathing?”

He becomes uncomfortably aware of his breathing at the question. And, while his nose hurts, he _can_ breathe. “No. It seems fine.”

It nods. “Apply ice and rest. I do not believe a visit with a medical professional is necessary.”

“Well, that’s something,” Gavin mutters.

“If you have trouble breathing, or the swelling increases, please do seek further medical treatment,” the ST300 says. It smiles before walking away to its previous position at the charging station on the wall.

Gavin looks at it for a moment too long.

Did its programming prompt her to check on him?

…

Connor’s arrival to the precinct is marked by Hank, who returns from the chase of the AX400 with the little girl in tow but not the deviant.

Gavin resists the urge to get up. The girl is terrified, and he’s not going to be able to help right now. And oh shit, he needs to change his shirt. He’s still got blood on it. That would certainly make a scared little girl feel better.

He pulls out a spare, clean t-shirt from his drawer and heads off to the bathroom to get cleaned up.

He’s shirtless and rinsing out the blood stains with cold water when the loud, piercing wails of a child begin. She doesn’t sound like she’s in pain, but miserable and upset. Given that Connor’s there, with all of the compassion and social grace of a toaster without even the benefit of providing toast, he can easily imagine how badly that little interview is going. He hurriedly pulls on a shirt and checks himself for any alarming blood stains, and exits.

The office is more or less in chaos when he exits the bathroom, and all of the commotion originating from one little girl.

“ _NO!_ ” screams Alice Williams, words punctuated by sobs clearly audible through the walls. “ _GET AWAY FROM ME!”_ The sound of sobbing became even louder. “I WANT _KARA!”_

He darts over to the observation room with the others because it’s practically a party in there. Connor has evidently decided to try to question the little girl, and surprise of surprises, is having no success. The little girl is sobbing in the corner, an ST300 kneeling next to her. The android mechanically rubs her back in what could be a soothing way if it wasn’t just a bit off from natural. Alice ignores her presence completely.

And Connor, the plastic prick, is standing by the table just a few feet away from the ST300 and the girl. In her perspective, he’s gotta be looming over her. Shit.

“Who the fuck sent robocop in there?” demands Gavin.

Anderson shoots him a dirt look over his shoulder, but Fowler nods at him. “It’s all yours, Detective. I’ll order Connor to leave the room.”

Gavin scowls, but says, “I don’t think I’m the right person for this. Daddy dearest terrorized her. She’d probably open up to a woman more. We should send in Officer Chen,” he says, nodding over to her.

“She refused to speak to me,” says Tina. “I don’t think her mother treated her that well, either.”

“She might open up to an android,” Anderson suggests, possibly aiming for casual and missing by a mile.

Critically eyeing Connor’s stiff posture, Gavin notes that while he’s not forwardly presenting himself as aggressive, a little, traumatized kid terrified of male aggression would still interpret his body language in that way.

“Is he even programmed to deal with little kids?” Gavin asks. He does not wait for an answer because it is obviously no. And even if he is, they don’t know that for sure yet, so it would be a risk. A risk for which the consequence would be further traumatizing a child, which Gavin deems unacceptable. “Get him the fuck out of there.”

“And the ST300?” asks the Captain.

Gavin considers, staring at the two of them in the room. Alice is solidly ignoring the android, but she is allowing it to comfort her…

“No, let it stay. It might be helping. At least we know _it_ won’t suddenly yell about stab wounds,” says Gavin, tacking on the last bit for Anderson. As expected, he scowls at him and murmurs audibly under his breath to go fuck himself.

Gavin ignores him and walks out, heading over to the fridge in the kitchen. In it are two cartons, one filled with individual boxes of chocolate milk, the other with orange juice. Both have _FOR KIDS ONLY DON’T TOUCH ASSHOLES_ written on them. The sign is less effective a deterrent than Gavin’s anger when they have nothing to give to kids who have been through hell, but it’s a decent reminder for everyone all the same.

He grabs one box of each, and heads over to the interrogation room. He knocks as a perfunctory thing and lets himself in.

He’s not surprised that Connor is still in the room. Gavin didn’t really think that that stubborn asshole would actually leave if ordered.

His brain skipped like a record track he’s never seen outside of old-timey films, he swears to God, because an android like Connor is always supposed to obey orders.

 _But his mission is to track down the deviants_ , he realizes. _So if our orders contradict his mission…_

Feeling cold, Gavin barks out with much more anger than he intended to, “Connor! Get out. Can’t you see you’re just scaring the poor kid now?”

Connor does a great impression of frustration, but says, “Of course, Detective,” and strides out without another word.

God, what a creepy asshole.

“Hey there, kiddo,” says Gavin. “Heard you’ve had a rough day. Do you want any chocolate milk?” Her eyes peeked at him a little bit. He puts both cartons on the table. “I also have orange juice, if you’d rather have that.”

Alice whispers something, and the ST300 gets up to the table and picks up the chocolate milk for her. Gavin waits while they get it open; it’s probably been a full day since she’s eaten anything, unless if her android was able to get her food before. If so, it wasn’t much.

It takes a couple of minutes before Alice is able to get the plastic straw into the carton. Her hands are shaking too much, either from lack of food or the emotional stress. Thankfully, the ST300 helps her do it.

Gavin feels a smidgen of smugness. He _knew_ keeping the ST300 around would be a good call. Anderson and his plastic prick can suck it.

Nabbing the orange juice, Gavin sits on the floor, a good several feet away from where Alice and the ST300 are. The little girl is watching him carefully, even as she drinks her chocolate milk.

Gavin isn’t going to have much of a chance to talk to Alice, once her social worker shows up. Neither are the rest of them, aside from what’s relevant to her case. Anderson and Connor undoubtedly want him to ask her about the deviant. That would help their case the most, after all, and they all know that if they don’t ask her now, they won’t have a chance to later. Any decent social worker is going to try to get the kid somewhere safe and strictly regulate who speaks to her.

Of course, it helps _Gavin’s_ case to not ask her about the deviant, in addition to just being way more appropriate for the kid overall.

And it would _really_ piss off Anderson.

It’s so beautiful how sometimes the stars just align. Just beautiful.

“We can keep you company until your social worker gets here,” says Gavin. “Me and…” Shit, he still doesn’t know if any of the station android’s have names. “Me and ST300,” he finishes, and Alice’s eyes narrow as her small face twists in suspicion.

“What’s your name?” she asks the ST300.

“I am ST300, Serial Number 312 159 753,” rattles off the android.

Alice shoots Gavin as dirty a look as a nine-year-old can muster. “You don’t even give them names,” she says quietly.

 _That’s really not something I’m in charge of,_ he’s about to say, but it’s the wrong move. “You’re right,” says Gavin. He turns his attention to the ST300. “Would you like a name?”

“I am not capable of having preferences. If you wish to give me a designation other than my serial number, please state it now,” says the ST300.

Gavin flinches because that sort of mechanical response has got to be bad for a girl so attached to her own android. To his surprise, Alice sits up straighter and says, “What about Cassie?”

“Designation accepted,” says the ST300. “My name is Cassie.”

He waits, to see if this emotionless acceptance of a name upsets Alice, but she leans back satisfied.

A big improvement on the past five minutes. “That’s a nice name,” says Gavin. “The android you were with was named Kara, wasn’t it?”

“ _She_ ,” says Alice, face sour and petulant. Shit. “Not _it_ .”

“Ah, that’s right. Her name is Kara,” Gavin says. The mental shift between the depersonalized _it_ pronouns to _she_ and _her_ seemed daunting, because they’re plastic toys, not real people, but he can do it to make a kid happy. “Did you name her too?”   
  
Alice sniffs, loud and wet. “Yeah.”

“You have good taste in names,” says Gavin, trying to think of where she might have gotten those names from. “Aren’t Cassie and Kara sisters in…” There’s a cartoon with two characters with those names, isn’t there?

“ _The Adventures of Bonnie Bunny_ ,” says Alice very quietly. “Kara and Cassie are cats.”

“Oh? Do you like cats?” asks Gavin.

“Yeah,” she says quietly, leaning into Cassie. “My dad never let me have one, though.”

And he never will, now. “I have a cat,” says Gavin.

“Really?” she asks. “What color is he?”

Gavin smiles fondly, “He’s orange and stupid.”

She giggles, suddenly, and looks surprised at herself.

“That’s mean,” she tells him.

Gavin nods, and adds, “You’re right, I shouldn’t be mean to him. He’s the best cat in the world.”

“Is he nice?” she asks, quietly and unsure, as if ‘nice’ is a foreign concept.

Her dad must have been a real piece of work. “He’s very nice,” he says. “Too nice, really. If someone broke into my house, he’d rub up against their legs and beg them to love him.”

She giggles again, then takes a huge, shuddering, wet inhale, and abruptly tears up again. “I want Kara,” she says, voice breaking and barely understandable.

“I know,” he says. He can’t lie to her, right now. Children always remember promises, and breaking them can lose their trust forever. “I’m sorry you got separated.”

“Will she be okay? Is he--” her eyes peer at him, and she finishes near inaudibly, “Is he going after her?”

“Who?” asks Gavin. Her father? Did she not know he was dead? He steels himself for giving her the news; even though her father was a terrible man and by all evidence horrifically abusive, there is no way to tell how she’ll react to the news.

“ _Connor_ ,” says the little girl, frightened and quiet.

Gavin’s words escape him, completely unprepared for that answer. This nine-year-old child’s father terrorized her and might have been trying to kill her the night he died.

And it’s _Connor_ she’s scared of?

Jesus fucking Christ. Who the hell designed that fucking thing?

And he still has to figure out how to respond. He can’t lie. “Well, we want to keep you safe,” he says, deciding on a strategy. “We’re worried that Kara might be dangerous.”

“She’s not!” says Alice, little voice rising. “She keeps me safe!”

“Alice,” Gavin says. “She killed your father. Androids aren’t supposed to harm humans, and she did.”

“SHE DIDN’T _KILL_ HIM!” she screams.

“Alice,” he says, “I’m sorry, but we found your dad dead in the house.”

She shakes her head furiously, as she shrieks, “ _I KILLED HIM! I DID IT!”_ and bursts out in loud, inconsolable sobs.

There’s a thud in the observation room, and Gavin swears he can hear muffled cursing. Cassie shifts forward in a precise, stiff way to nevertheless pull Alice into her arms. The chocolate milk box is abandoned on the floor as the little girl sobs into the android’s shirt.

“ _He was gonna kill us!_ ” she wails. “ _I had to! I had to!”_

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” mutters Cassie, stroking Alice’s hair. Internally, Gavin thanks whatever God still exists that the android is in the room. At least she’s letting something comfort her, even if it is an android.

“I believe you,” says Gavin. “And it’s okay. Why don’t we take a break? I can get us some snacks.” And maybe the social worker’s arrived, who can help him get the story out of Alice to build a case for getting her somewhere stable and safe as soon as possible.

An Indian woman in a gray suit and pink blouse is waiting right outside the door as he steps out. Her visitor’s badge reads ISHANI.

“Social worker?” he asks. At her nod, he says, “Thank fucking God.”

“I’m going to head in,” she says. “Anything I need to know?”

“We’re still working on a timeline for what happened the night her father died,” he said, no-nonsense. “She just told me that she was the one who shot her father because he was going to kill her and the android.”

“The android,” Ishani says, “her name was Kara?”

“That’s right.”

“What happened to her?” asks the social worker. “Did you guys get her?”

“No, not yet. I’ve been trying to avoid answering that.” Gavin doesn’t turn around to the observation room where Connor is standing, because his tells aren’t that obvious. “If she’s not violent, though…”

Ishani nods. “I can work with that. Let me know when you want to question her again, but let me calm her down. When did she last eat?”

Gavin shrugs. “We don’t know. Depends on if the android was able to feed her while they were on the run. It didn’t look like she got a chance to enjoy dinner before her dad upturned the table.” At the social worker’s frown, he adds, “I gave her some chocolate milk which she drank. I was gonna go see if I could scrounge something up for her.”

“Something light would be a good idea to start with. Thanks,” she says, breezing past him into the room. She shuts the door, and the others file out of the observation room.

“Well,” says Anderson as they get to the bullpen. “This is a shitshow.”

“Detective Reed,” Connor says in such an abrupt way that it feels like an interruption. “You reported that you arrested the deviant we found in the squat?” 

Shit. “Yup,” he drawls. “Since no one else was fuckin’ bothered to.”

“The only deviant in the cells is the HK400,” says Connor. “Where is the WR600?”

“Well, he escaped,” Gavin answers, punctuating his response by roughly slamming down Todd William’s folder down onto his desk in front of Connor. “Because if Mitchell,” he jerks his head to the vacated cubicle, “hadn’t been an idiot, we could have given chase. But he fired his gun, so no one could move. So! We lost it.”

Connor stares at him with… frustration? Displeasure? It’s uncanny how real it looks.

The android’s eyes flicker away from him, towards the corner with the interrogation room. Gavin follows its line of sight and sees… Cassie. The ST300. Ishani must have gotten Alice calm enough to dismiss her.

He looks back to Connor, who is staring fixedly at it.

Defensive and not knowing why, he snaps, “The fuck are you staring at?”

“Nothing, Detective,” he answers, taking a step back from Gavin’s desk. Then he turns around and walks to Anderson across the pen.

Androids move so fucking weird.

Shaking his head and throwing Cassie another glance, although it is returning dutifully to its station, Gavin goes to the kitchen to track down some food.

…

He gives Ishani thirty more minutes alone with Alice, before he knocks on the door with some PB and J in hand.

“Hey there,” he says, “want some food?”

Alice doesn’t reply, but she’s sitting at the table next to Ishani, so Gavin sets it down on the table for her when she wants it.

“Alice was just telling me about what happened to her and Kara,” says Ishani. She turns to her and asks, “Can you tell the detective what you told me?” Alice grips the table and shakes her head. “Do you want me to tell him? Or do you want him to leave?”

Alice takes a few moments with big, shuddering gasps before she can say anything. When she does, it’s a quiet and broken, “You tell him.”

“We don’t have to do this now,” says Ishani. “We can take a break, go get you some clean clothes and a nap--”

“I want to help Kara!” Alice bursts out. Tears stream down her swollen and splotchy face. “Please, don’t let them hurt her…”

“I’ll do my best,” says Gavin. “Can you tell me what happened?”

“We were… we were sitting down to dinner and--and Dad got really angry…” She pauses, and sniffled, loud and gross. Ishani pulls a tissue from a little packet on the table that she must have brought along in her purse.

Ah, shit, Gavin should have thought of bringing in a fucking tissue box. Now the entire precinct is going to look like a bunch of assholes, not giving a crying kid some goddamned tissues.

After Alice blows her nose, Gavin prompts, “So your dad got angry at dinner. Did he get angry a lot?”

She nods her head. “N-not--not like this,” she says in a tiny voice. “I ran to my bedroom because I knew he was going to--I knew he was going to--”

Ishani rubs her shoulder and pulls out another tissue for her, which she goes through quickly. Gavin gets up from his chair, and Alice’s head shoots up at the sound of his moving, face frightened.

Shit. “Just grabbing the trash can for you,” he explains.

Alice swallows hard, and sniffles loudly. She tosses her dirty tissue towards the can and misses anyway, despite the proximity.

Ah, well. Gavin reaches down and scoops the tissue into the trash.

“Do you want to keep going? Or would you like to take a break?” Ishani rubs Alice’s upper back soothingly.

She shakes her head, but says, “I ran to my room, and… and then Dad found me, and he was going to… he took off his belt--!”

Gavin’s stomach lurches but his expression doesn’t change. Ishani, who is not in Alice’s line of sight, frowns. “He took off his belt? Then what happened?”

“He was gonna beat me with it,” Alice says, miserable. Face too pale and eyes too red, her crying slows down. “Then Kara came into the room with the gun.”

They’re going to have to make sure that Todd Williams didn’t do anything else. Child abuse, pedophilia, and child trafficking are all cases Gavin is used to, and he’s pretty good at compartmentalizing. The hardest part is always trying to find out from the kid what happened.

“And where did she get a gun?” Alice told them that she shot her dad, not Kara. So then how…?

“Dad keeps a gun in his drawer. Or--or he did.” Her eyes widened as she says that. With how traumatic the past couple days have been for her, Gavin wouldn’t be surprised if her father’s death hadn’t yet sunk in. He and Ishani exchange a look; if Alice grows any more distressed, Gavin knew this interview would be over.

“We can stop,” Gavin leans back to get out of his chair. “Why don’t we--?”

“ _No!_ ” shouts Alice, jumping out of her seat a little. “You said you would help Kara! You _promised_!”

Ishani’s expression spoke clearly. “I can help Kara after we take a break.”

“No.” Alice mouth sets stubbornly. “I can keep going.”

Gavin waits for Ishani to say, “Alright, let’s keep going for a little bit more,” before proceeding.

“What do you remember feeling when Kara came into your room with a gun?” he asks.

One of the best thing about children is that her bewildered reaction to his question is completely unfiltered and hilarious. She hasn’t been so hurt and traumatized that she can’t do a double-take.

“How I _felt_?”

“Yeah. What were you thinking?”

“Oh… I was… relieved. Kara was there to save me,” she says. “She told my dad to get away from me. To leave me alone, and he… went to her instead of me, and they fought and... “ She rubs her eyes furiously and takes a shuddering gasp. Gavin thinks she’s going to sobbing, but she doesn’t. “He got her on the floor and was going to kill her, so I… the gun was right there so I…”

She stares too hard at the table. Gavin and Ishani glance at each other, worried.

“I shot him,” Alice finishes quietly. “I shot my dad.”

Gavin leans his elbows on the table. “You’re a very brave girl. It’s going to be alright. You’re safe now.” She begins to shake her head, and Gavin adds on, “I’ll see what I can do about Kara.” And he shouldn’t, but... “I promise.”

...

After he’s written up that shitshow of a story onto a report, Gavin retreats into the bathroom to rinse his face with some cool water. His face feels too hot, and he can’t show how angry he is around the kid. His anger helps when he’s confronting the assholes involved, but when it’s just a hurt, little kid like Alice, it’s his biggest problem.

Speaking of assholes, Connor walks into the bathroom shortly after Gavin does. The timing is too close to be anything than purposeful.

Gavin doesn’t quite do a double-take, but he makes a point to make his distaste for his presence known. He sneers. “What, they give you the ability to shit, too?”

“I read your report. You did not ask about the deviant.”

“What, already?” _Of course, already, it’s a goddamned computer._ “Yeah, that’s not my fucking job. As far as I’m concerned, we got the kid safe and sound, the droid didn’t kill the dad, so who cares?”

Connor stares at him, unmoving. The fucker’s breathing, but everything else about him is unnaturally still. Chills run up Gavin’s spine.

“You captured the WR600 that assisted the AX400. And let it escape.”

“Yeah, you don’t really need to be a fancy-schmancy detective android to figure that out,” Gavin snarks.

The corner of the android’s mouth twitched down minutely. It’s a very human expression, or would be, if anything else about the android moved along with it. Alarms ring in Gavin’s head, but he doesn’t quite know why. It’s just a freaky machine.

“You let the deviant escape,” repeats Connor.

“You let the AX400 escape,” Gavin shoots back, although he has no real way of knowing it. It’s a fair guess, however, and an accurate one based on how Connor tenses and frowns, with lifelike frustration. He’s still standing stiffer than a pervert’s dick in the Eden Club, but it becomes slightly less unsettling to look at.

“I was ordered to,” he practically snaps. Gavin squints at him a little. What an… emotional machine. What’s the word for that kind of phrase? “The human child was the priority. I was ordered to let the deviant go.” Oxymoronic! That’s the bitch.

“What, you didn’t want the save the child?” asks Gavin before he can think better of asking an android if it wanted anything. His lip curls in disgust as he adds, “Fucking heartless machine.”

“It is imperative that I accomplish my mission,” says Connor. “Deviants are a risk to public safety, and the cause of deviancy is unknown. There are now two dangerous deviants on the loose, which is _our_ responsibility, Detective Reed. I hope that you can take responsibility seriously.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Gavin fumes. “ _You_ didn’t accomplish your mission, and you’re blaming me? I wasn’t even there! You left Ralph behind! You’re lucky I even thought to stay behind to catch him.”

“I failed in my mission to capture the deviant,” says Connor like the goddamned robot he is. “You allowed a deviant escape from the precinct. We both failed in our missions.”

“Oh, fuck off,” Gavin snaps. “ _My_ mission isn’t to stop the deviants or kill them all or whatever the fuck it is that they programmed into you, you fucking Terminator. I’m trying to keep people safe, which I _did_ , when I brought in Ralph and when I made sure no one was hurt when he, yeah, he _did_ escape. But you know what?” he continues, stepping closer to Connor. Which isn’t such a great idea, even ignoring the whole android part of the equation. Connor is taller than him, and single-minded. Couple that with his robotic apathy, he would absolutely fuck up Gavin if pressed. Gavin is too pissed to care about that at the moment. “I didn’t have to be ordered to do that. _You_ have to be _ordered_ to care about the life of a little girl.”

The android stares at him blankly, not unlike Morty did before answering a question. Slap on a pinwheel of death and no one would think to suggest whether or not androids could be human.

“I am an android, Detective. I do not have the capacity to experience emotions.”

“Yeah, that’s fucking obvious,” Gavin snarls. He pulls out a paper towel from the dispenser to dry his face off--and then another one, because the first one didn’t dry his whole fucking face. “Just fuck off. Dunno what anyone gets from talking to an emotionless husk like you.”

“Androids are programmed to present in convincingly affective manners,” says Connor, for some reason beyond Gavin’s understanding. “Although I cannot experience emotions, I am perfectly capable of engaging in emotional presentations as required of me to fulfill social interactions with humans.”

“Uh-huh,” says Gavin, “‘cause you’re doing that _so well_ right now.”

To get out of the bathroom, he has to walk around Connor who doesn’t move a single inch to let him through, so he bumps into him out of spite.

And it fucking hurts his shoulder. Of course it does.

**Author's Note:**

> Trying to keep Gavin as in character as possible while also like... giving him a more reasonable logic for why he's such an asshole.


End file.
